Forsworn
by Payprklip
Summary: In the castle of Galbatorix, a baby is born. Her mother, no longer useful, is disposed of and she is raised by wet nurses. She watches Murtagh struggle through the life that is not kind to him and has a few of her own experiences. This story follows Murtagh pre-inheritance (slightly) and during inheritance. NOT A GALBATORIX'S DAUGHTER STORY.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is the same first chapter as my old story 'Seer', but some new details added. It's unusually short, but that's because it's nly an introduction - more of a prologue than a chapter but still. This story will have the same characters as 'Seer', but the storyline will be different as I wasn't really happy with the old one at all. Please review and give me some ideas about where to take the story! I have the next few chapters already written :)**

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Chapter One - Beginning

The woman's screams shattered the air with a battering intensity. It seemed like the atmosphere would shimmer with each cry, as though the weight of the woman's pain was too much to carry and the world was faltering. The darkness that had closed in during the hours that she had been in labour was unnaturally incomplete – as though the sun couldn't decide whether it wanted to shine or not. And by all accounts, the sun is one of the only things we can trust as a constant…when the sun is unsure, it bodes ill for the world. It was early evening after all and by all rights the light should have faded much more by this point. As it was, the bed chamber had a sort of hazy appearance; it was there but not a reality. All the remaining light seemed to flee from one corner as though something that should not have been was expelling it with poisonous force and the shadow that moved slightly within the dark had a murky aura.

The thin, white hands that gripped the thick, wooden bed posts didn't help the appearance of a black and white scene either. Another shriek ensued and the hands clenched; tendons standing in high relief and straining at their human restraints. At her cry, the shadow wavered, a sigh in the still air. It seemed as though it was growing bored with waiting for something to happen and wanted it all to be over in one outcome or another.

"Lady...push again. It's nearly over." The otherwise unseen maid kneeling with a damp cloth to her mistress' clammy forehead spoke urgently, a moan from the tortured woman punctuating her statement. She'd been saying the same thing for nearly an hour now.

The maid's course, brown hair was twisted back into the uniform bun that all of the servants in _that place_ shared. It looked dry and knotted, brittle. It was as though each individual hair would snap in two at the slightest breeze or touch. The lines on her face were deep set and dusted with coal soot from the many fires that she was forced to tend despite the unusually warm weather. Her pale lips were cracked and split in some places – the sandpaper tongue that came out every minute or so to wet them only served to dry them up even more. Above, small eyes squinted through the haze in the short-sightedness that had come with her old age. But the face of her mistress was familiar to her and it would take more than near-blindness to prevent her from recognising the woman that she had served for many long years.

Those years had not been kind to the woman, but in contrast to the old maid's haggard and unkempt appearance, she was beautiful, even in labour. Her thick hair was long, shiny and black as midnight. Her face – though screwed up in agony, betrayed no age or long years labouring in fields. She was pale as moonlight, with soft, full lips that carried just a hint of pink and were parted slightly – forced open by the desperate pants trying to fill her lungs. Her normally dark eyes were bright with pain, glinting with tears that didn't fall.

"I can't!" She cried in a voice as hoarse as a hollering chimney sweep, "I'm so…_tired._"

The maid cooed some reassuring words in a similarly rough voice, but they sounded half-hearted. It was clear that the labour was taking longer than it should for a woman as young and healthy as her mistress. She turned her head towards the shadow with a pleading look, but when her eyes found the evil and her whole body shuddered and her face turned quickly away.

She could not look upon it.

* * *

It was only later, when the sun had finally decided to evacuate and the light had dissipated completely and left the high set windows as faint silhouettes that the first stirrings of a new born could be heard. The woman gave a final sob and then lay heavily on the bed while her maid fussed over a tiny baby that refused to make a sound. Large, blue eyes that were so unlike its mother's simply stared up at the servant solemnly while breaths came in tiny pants – as though it, not the mother, had just been working hard.

"A girl, lady." Came the quiet, drained murmur.

The new mother tried weakly to lift her pale arms. "Give her...please...give her to me..." But the strain was too much on her exhausted body, and they trembled before falling back to her sides awkwardly. The deep red velvet of the top cover seemed to blur the boundaries of her skin, and appeared for all the world to be seeping out of her body.

Regretfully, the old maid again looked over to the shadow and failed to suppress a shiver.

The shadow smirked.

Looking back at her mistress, whose eyes were slowly closing despite the fight she was putting up, the maid shook her head. "You're too weak, lady."

"Please!" The woman too looked for the shadow, knowing that if she wasn't given her child now she would never see it again, "You promised...you _swore_ my child would not be taken away from me!"

The shadow emerged with a lazy swagger and leered down at the woman.

"I lied."

And then Galbatorix, self-proclaimed king of Alagaësia snatched the newborn child out of the arms of the terrified maid and left the room – now empty save from the dead mother, her dead servant and the ringing of the Ancient Language in the air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So I got a couple of reviews (thank you!) and they were positive, so I'm going to carry on in the same direction as I set out. This chapter is set 7 years later, when Aalina (Ar-leen-a) (the baby) is 7 and Murtagh is 8. She was given to Morzan and Selena as a playmate for Murtagh because it was seen as important for him to have some interaction with a child his age - a child that was strictly controlled and taught to respect the Empire. Please read and review! It means a lot :)**

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Chapter Two – Playmate

Her lungs burned as they struggled to pull in more air that they could take, and still she ran.

Her legs ached as they struggled to push further and faster than they could carry her, and still she ran.

Her cheeks stung as they received numerous scratches from the lashing branches as she whipped past, and still she ran.

The adrenaline pumped through her system and her cheeks felt warm as the blood rushed up to the surface. It was the fear, more than anything, that kept her going. The fear, however foolish, that made sure she pushed herself to her limits in order to escape what was hurtling along behind her.

_Just a bit further._

There! She saw the trees begin to thin out and knew she was close. But the thing chasing her was also close. Dangerously so, and if she didn't speed up even more, the thing would catch her. And gods knew what would happen then.

Her throat began to close in protest, unable to cope with the pressure of sucking in so much precious air but she still forced herself to move faster. The sunlight was now able to force its way through the canopy overhead and bright beams of white shot through the leaves and lit up the forest floor. The brown pine needles that fell daily blanketed the floor in a soft carpet that absorbed all energy and made it even more difficult to run. Oh, if only she were running on a hard surface! She could go so much faster then! But then, so could the thing chasing her.

She smelt the fresh scent of the crushed needles and fleshy bark around her, breathed it in as if it were her lifeline and allowed her lungs to fill up with good, fresh air. The day was still, but as she ran she felt the cool breeze on her skin and was glad for it – she hated running when it was too hot. Around her, birds sang loudly, as if they were giving warning cries to the forest and to her about the thing right on her heels.

_Yes,_ she thought, _I know, I know!_

She was so close to the edge of the forest now. She could almost taste the feeling that came with being out in the open, with nothing but the blue, clear sky far overhead. She could taste too, the delicious victory that came with escaping her pursuer.

_Yes!_

She shot out of the trees and into the meadow that marked its edge. She squealed with glee at her escape, ignoring the servants that looked around in shock as they went about their daily chores: carrying piles of laundry, cutting the grass or pruning immaculate hedges. She didn't care about them because they never spoke to her – well, only to ask her if she needed anything. And they didn't care about her, not so long as she kept out of the way and avoided breaking anything irreplaceable.

Her momentary glee was shattered as the thing that had been chasing her followed her from the trees and bowled into her, tackling her firmly to the ground and straddling her.

"Ha!" The thing shouted, voice full of elation, "So _there_, Lina! Caught you!"

"No!" She squealed through a mouthful of grass, "I got out of the forest, I'm in the safe-zone!"

She wriggled hopefully, but the thing sat on top of her didn't budge. She heard him panting just as hard as her and was glad that it wasn't only her that was out of breath.

"_No,_" The thing argued back, "I caught you _before_ you got to the safe-zone!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

She finally succeeding in rolling over and facing her captor. He was grinning down at her with all the looks of a champion, utterly sure that he was right. The sun behind his head gave his dark brown hair a shiny quality, and the waves that never straightened were strewn with twigs and sweaty.

"Did _not!_" She snapped, "I was in the safe-zone!"

He laughed and stood up, cheeks still flushed from the chase. He offered her a hand, but she promptly ignored him, clambering ungracefully to her feet without his help. It didn't help that her long skirt kept getting caught between her legs and tangling them together.

"It's your own fault, Lina, you weren't fast enough," He told her, thoroughly pompously. His eyes shined with what she could only describe as _smugness_.

"It's _not_ my fault," She countered as she dusted off her dress, "I'm wearing a dress – that makes it more difficult to run than if you're wearing trousers. _And _I'm smaller than you – _and _younger. And anyway, I _was _in the safe-zone."

They started walking up to the shadow of the estate together, avoiding the lines strung with just-washed clothes and bustling servants. He rolled his eyes at her in a very grown-up way. She hated it when he did that because it was his way of acting like a proper adult and showing her that because he was a year older than her, he was more mature.

"_Sure_, Lina, whatever you say. You shouldn't be a poor loser," He boasted, "It isn't lady-like."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are, Lina," He insisted, "You're a poor loser!"

She fumed. She _hadn't _lost. He was only saying that because he wanted to be able to tell everyone that he was faster than her and not that he was beaten by a girl. _He_ was the poor loser.

He laughed at her expression, breathing now back to normal, "Oh come on, let's go and get some food. I'm hungry."

She pursed her lips and said nothing.

"Oh, are you giving me the silent treatment just because I caught you?"

"You _didn't_ catch me!" She shouted, immediately regretting that she couldn't keep her mouth shut for two seconds, "I was in the safe-zone!"

He grinned triumphantly at having gotten her to break her silence only seconds after she'd started it, just like he always did. She felt her cheeks darken in a blush. She was embarrassed because she knew what he was thinking: _Silly, Lina, can never stop talking, no matter what._

"Oh shut up, Tag!"

He laughed again because he knew that she knew what he was thinking, and he knew that she knew it was true. But despite being annoying, he _was_ her best friend (her _only _friend, since there were no other children on the estate) and he knew when to stop teasing her. He took her arm, steering her towards the main entrance and up the steps that were dutifully swept each day.

"Come on…"

They pattered though the entrance hall and down a set of steps that led to the kitchens. It was mid-afternoon, but they'd been too busy playing to have lunch, and now they were both in need of re-fuelling.

The kitchens were boiling hot, on account of the fires that blazed in the hearths all day, and the two children wiped their brows simultaneously with their sleeves. One of the plump cooks turned away from where she was assaulting a rump-steak with a wooden rolling-pin to make it extra tender, and smiled down at them. She was particularly fond of the two children, and liked to mother over them. It made them both rather awkward at times, since neither of them had a mother and weren't sure how to respond – especially since she was of a lower class than them. Sometimes Tornac would have to step in and send her back to the kitchens were she belonged.

"Ah, what would my little chickens like for lunch today? Have you managed to lose your nurse already?" She had a matronly voice, but it was somewhat cracked by years of inhaling the smoke in the kitchens.

Of course they'd managed to lose their nurse. They did it every day after they were released from lessons with Tornac. They both hated her because she never let them do _anything_ fun. So they just ran away from her and hid until she gave up looking for them.

"Just lamb mince," Said Tag dismissively, not caring for her motherly attitude.

She nudged him with her elbow, trying to get him to be polite and say 'please', but Tag was never polite to the servants. It was like he had no time for them.

"You'll have to have a few vegetables or your tutor will have my head!" The cook laughed, good naturedly, turning away.

"_I_ could have your head, if I wanted," Tag said.

She gasped, shocked that he would say something like that. But he was probably just showing off to her about how grown-up he was, now he was eight.

The cook paled and went quickly over to where she assumed the lamb mince was.

She looked crossly at Tag, "You didn't have to say that. It was very rude."

He looked smugly at her, "But it's true. Tornac told me that because I'm a lord I can have people killed if I want," He waited for her to be impressed. She was, but she didn't show it.

"But you _won't_," She insisted, "You would _never _kill someone, would you?"

"I might," He argued, "If I wanted."

She felt a flicker of unease in her stomach, and it must of shown in her eyes because he reassured her quickly, "Of _course_, I won't! Not _really_," He said, giving her a smile.

She smiled back. Of course he wouldn't. Not Tag, he'd never hurt anyone.

The cook came back with two wooden blocks topped with mince and a few steamed vegetables. They even got proper iron forks like the ones the grown-ups used. Feeling very pleased with themselves, she and Tag made their way back up the steps and then up the main staircase. They followed the familiar route to their bedrooms, which stood next-door to each other. They sat on the window seat in Tag's room and swung their legs back and forth as they tucked into the well-needed food. To their backs and not too far into the distance stood the huge, black city surrounded by old walls and towers and backed by a sheer cliff face. The king's castle was only a few hours ride away, and they both knew that he was making sure that he kept a close eye on them as they grew up. But for now Tornac was allowed to over-see their education. Well, it was Tag really that everyone was so focused on, she was only here to keep him company. No one really cared about what happened to her.

Except Tag. He was her best friend. (Her only friend).

But that meant that she was _his _only friend too.


End file.
